


Mr. Perfect Beard

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Beards, Beards (Facial Hair), Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, College Student Stiles, Dildos, First Time, Loud Sex, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Multiple Orgasms, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 07:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13631901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: Seriously, Derek needs to stop growing that beard or Stiles isn’t going to be able to control himself. There will be kissing and fondling and Stiles really just wants to lay Derek out on the bed and fuck him senseless.





	Mr. Perfect Beard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [froggydarren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/gifts).



> I blame froggydarren for posting [this](http://pfudorqueen.tumblr.com/post/170544733345/moepoke-this-is-some-college-au-gold) to the prompt channel on the eternalsterek discord server. I couldn't resist.
> 
> Also, the room that these guys share is based on an actual freshman dorm room at an actual university.
> 
> NOTE: This is hot off the fingertips and absolutely unbetaed. All mistakes are my own.

Stiles is barely awake on Wednesday when he falls out of bed after the third time his alarm goes off. He usually does better than that, getting up before Scott throws something across their double, right at his face, but this is a tough morning.

Worse yet, he’s looking ahead to an exam. In an 8AM class. These things should not be allowed.

He stumbles past Scott’s bed, yanks open the door to the en suite bathroom they share with the guys next door. He barely registers that yes, there is someone at the sink, simply pushes past and yanks the door to the toilet shut so he can pee in peace.

One bathroom for four guys is better than having to share with the entire floor. But it somehow seems that every time Stiles needs to get ready for an early class, so does Derek.

Derek Hale. The exceedingly hot guy who lives right next door. One shared bathroom away. They share a wall, too, and sometimes Stiles swears he can hear things through it. Things that maybe he shouldn’t be listening to. Nothing specific, more mumbled voices than words. Sounds, sometimes. Yeah.

Still. It’s morning and when Stiles yanks open the door to escape the tiny toilet room, there’s Derek, standing by the sink.

Derek steps aside, and Stiles grunts his thanks as he washes his hands. The shared bathroom has its issues, one of them being the sink that sits dead center, the others being the tiny stall of a shower at one end, and the tiny toilet room at the other.

Still, Stiles reminds himself daily that he only has to share with three guys. Not thirty. This is a good thing.

Teeth. Yes. Brushing of teeth. Stiles grabs for his toothbrush and puts toothpaste on it, shuffles sideways when Derek nudges him. Because Derek is apparently trimming his beard right now.

Did he mention that Derek is unfairly hot? Because it is really, truly, utterly unfair.

Back in September, when they’d all arrived as freshmen, Derek had been clean-shaven. Oh, there was stubble, sure, and Stiles managed not to comment on how much he’d like to rub his face on it. Or his thighs. At least, not where Derek could hear.

But it’s gotten worse since then. So, so much worse. The stubble grew out to a thick beard, and now it’s luxurious and looks soft and touchable and Stiles just wants to sink his fingers in it and never let go.

Seriously, Derek needs to stop growing that beard or Stiles isn’t going to be able to control himself. There will be kissing and fondling and Stiles really just wants to lay Derek out on the bed and fuck him senseless.

Life would be so much easier if he would just shave.

Stiles nudges Derek to the side so he can lean over the sink and spit out his toothpaste. He gathers up a handful of water to rinse his mouth, then straightens up to finger comb his hair.

Thanks to ignoring his alarm, he’s already running twenty minutes late. The shower is just going to have to wait until later.

Hopefully when later happens, mister perfect beard won’t be in the bathroom and giving Stiles ideas that he’s just better off not thinking.

#

“It’s just not fair.” Stiles drops into the seat Scott saved for him in the lecture hall, way at the back. It’s one of the few unbroken plastic chairs in the back and there is no way Stiles would ever have a chance at it if Scott weren’t invested enough to show up for class early.

Stiles is never early. And days like today, he’s sneaking in five minutes after lecture’s already begun. There’s a hissed _shhh_ and Stiles wiggles his fingers hello just as Lydia turns away, four rows down.

As if she actually heard him from that distance.

“What’s not fair?” Scott whisper-asks, like the good best friend he is. His focus never wavers from the screen at the front of the room, and Scott writes quickly, taking notes even while his head cocks, listening to Stiles.

“Derek,” Stiles hisses. “Why is he always in the bathroom when I am?”

Scott’s pen stops and he turns to look at Stiles. “Um. He isn’t in there every time. There are four of us, remember? You guys just have a similar schedule.”

Stiles slumps down, pulls out a notebook and opens it up. He has to take notes by hand, even though most of the people in class use a laptop. Sometimes he thinks he, Scott, and Lydia are the only ones who write the old-fashioned way.

He leans over, whispers, “I had to shower, Scott. He was in the bathroom _again_.”

Scott stares at the screen, writes a sentence. Blinks. “Dude.”

“It’s not like I could shower in the morning with him there.” Stiles scribbles out what he wrote, tries again. It doesn’t matter, because he honestly doesn’t give a shit about calculus right now. He knows he should, he needs to pass the class, but damn it. There are more important issues, like Derek Hale’s face. “He was there. With that face.”

“You slept late,” Scott reminds him quietly. “You threw my bear back at me.”

“You threw it at me first.”

“You snoozed three times.” Scott adds an exclamation point to his notes, and Stiles feels the scrape of the pen like it’s stabbing him. Yes, Scott, he does get the point that it was annoying.

“Fine. It wasn’t his fault in the morning. But he should’ve known I needed the shower during my break between classes,” Stiles mutters.

“Was he in the shower?”

It’s a reasonable question. And there’s a reasonable answer, too.

“No. He was at the sink. Trimming his beard again.”

Scott blinks. “Oh. Well, he does have a nice beard.”

Stiles groans, sinks low in his seat. “I know. He has a fucking perfect beard. And a perfect face, and he’s just so damned good looking and I want to fuck him so hard, Scott. _So hard_. It’s not fair.”

Lydia’s glaring at him from four rows down. Allison, too.

“That was a lot louder than you thought,” Scott whispers.

Shit.

It’s only first semester freshman year. Stiles could still logically transfer to a different school, as long as he can get another full ride scholarship and a way to get there, and all the other things he’d need since he doesn’t exactly have loads of money.

Or he could just hope that they didn’t really overhear anything but the F-bombs and therefore nothing’s going to get back to Derek.

Just… fuck his life.

#

“I’m going over to Kappa Sig tonight.” Scott shrugs into his jacket, checks his hair in the mirror. He has a sappy grin which means only one thing. “Allison said she and Lydia were going. I’m figure I might run into her there.”

Yep. Stiles was right. That ridiculous smile means Scott is trying once again to bark up the tree that keeps resisting him.

Scott’s going to win through, though. Eventually. Allison’s all smiles when she sees Scott, and she blushes. It’s just that she’s also popular, and best friends with Lydia, so she’s cautious. Understandably so, consider Scott is best friends with Stiles.

He’s not exactly most popular guy on campus. Scott’s social cred is probably in the toilet thanks to Stiles.

Scott yanks open the door to the shared bathroom, leans against it. “Hey, Isaac. You going out?”

“Kappa Sig’s having a thing, so yeah,” Isaac responds.

Scott lights up. “Me too. We can walk over together?”

Silence for a long moment, before Isaac says slowly, “Sure. I’m meeting up with my girlfriend there.” His voice lilts up, and Stiles smothers a snicker.

Scott exhales, “Dude. I’m not trying to pick you up. I’m hoping to meet up with a girl there, too. Not any girl, this specific girl. She’s gorgeous. And sweet. And really nice, and she blushes so prettily.”

“You sound ridiculous.”

“Don’t be an ass, Isaac,” Stiles calls out, and he imagines the way Isaac raises his middle finger after. Because Isaac always gives him the finger.

“Hey, Scott.”

Scott leans back. “Yeah?”

“Are you going to sexile me later?” It’s a thing, and Stiles needs to know if it’s going to be a thing here tonight, because he needs to make plans. Somehow. Even if it involves sleeping in the library all night so he doesn’t have to hear Scott banging Allison in the next bed over.

“Dude, no. We will find a place that isn’t here,” Scott promises. “Hey, Isaac. Where’s Derek? Is he going out with us?”

Stiles gives Isaac credit for the fact that he’s stopped hesitating over the idea that Scott’s now assumed that they’re an _us_ and not just two dudes who happen to be stuck in the same suite.

“He went home. Left right after his lab, hours ago.” Isaac pushes into the room, doesn’t even look at Stiles. “Come on, let’s go. I don’t want to keep Ally waiting.”

Scott turns around, walking backwards out of the room as he follows Isaac. He mouths, “I’m going to go talk to Allison,” then grins, and the door slams behind them.

Ally.

Allison.

It is absolutely not possible that Isaac’s girlfriend is the same girl Scott’s been crushing on since the first day of Calculus.

Stiles really hopes the night doesn’t end in heartache for his best friend.

Which is something he can deal with later. Much later.

For now, he’s got the entire suite to himself.

Which means it is the absofuckinglutely perfect time so some very special private time in the shower. For as long as he wants. Because while sharing a bathroom sucks, the fact that the hot water never runs out is fucking amazing.

Stiles strips in his room because he can. Because there’s no one there, and no reason to feel claustrophobic. He grabs his towel and brings it into the bathroom, hangs it over the hook on the wall across from the shower.

This stupid, annoying, tiny fucking shower.

It’s a stall. Not a bathtub, just this square thing with a glass door that makes him feel like the walls are closing in.

But.

Wait.

There’s no one in the suite. No one’s going to barge in, no one’s going to need that door to be closed, so he’s got some vague sense of privacy.

With a low, cheerful whoop, Stiles steps into the shower and leaves that damned door wide open. He twists on the water, lets it beat down over his head until the entire room steams up and his skin is warm.

It feels so fucking good.

He forgot his soap, but that’s okay, someone left some in the shower and that’ll do. It’s not like he’s here to get clean, anyway. He just needs some lubrication.

Stiles quickly soaps his hand, wraps it around his cock, and oh fuck that feels good. No one ever mentioned that the worst part of college would be the lack of private time. Okay, well, yeah, it’s not like he’s been a monk. He’s had his moments of thrusting against the bed, quietly getting off with his moans muffled by his pillow. And he’s heard enough rustling to know that Scott’s done the same.

Hell, he’s pretty sure that Derek’s had full on banging loud sex in the room next door, like he doesn’t care that sound carries.

It might have inspired some of the frantic frotting, in fact.

Anyway.

It doesn’t take much to get him hard. Hell, all he has to do is think about Derek and he’s there, on the edge, ready to tip over.

He is not going to do this quickly, though. Not now, not when he has time for more than a furtive, disappointing wank. This is going to have fantasy and perfection and it is going to be the most epic orgasm to ever orgasm.

Stiles leans back against the wall, fondles his balls and ignores his cock for a moment. “It’s all your fault,” he mutters. “You and that stupid fucking beard. Do you know what it’s like walking around with a permanent hard-on? Probably not. I mean, you’re you, and I’m me. And I swear to fucking god, it’s like you know how hot you are, and you just keep trying to make yourself hotter.”

Stiles spreads his feet a bit, finds the right angle so he doesn’t slide on the slick floor. His head falls back as he keeps his left hand on his balls, but starts slowly stroking his cock with his right. Root to tip, roll over the head. Press his thumb into the little slit, then wrap his fingers around and slide back down, nice and tight. “Fuck.” His hips shift, and he wants to go harder. Faster.

He closes his eyes, and he imagines Derek there on his knees, and fuck, that’s good. “Perfect you,” he mutters. “With that perfect beard and that perfect face. I could fuck that perfect mouth and come all over that beard and you’d look… fuck.” Stiles’s breath catches, hips shifting again as his heart races. “You’d look amazing. And that ass. Has anyone told you about that ass? I mean, you are a god among men, disturbingly handsome. But that ass is perfection. I want to bend you over, stick my tongue in your crack, lick you until you’re sopping wet. Then I want to finger you open, taking my time until you’re whining on my fingers. Like you did the other night, when Isaac was out. Who’d you have in the room, Derek? What lucky girl were you fucking?”

He remembers the cries, the high-pitched whine and low groan. He fists his cock, goes just a bit faster.

There’s a thud somewhere in the distance, and Stiles pauses for a moment before he remembers. He’s safe. Scott’s picking up Allison, Isaac’s probably screwing his girlfriend, and Derek went home.

Stiles can take as long as he wants.

His breath is rough, gasping. He has to pause, fingers pressed tight to the base of his cock. The fantasy is bright and brilliant in his mind, still. The perfect roundness of Derek’s ass, his hole wet with lube. Open. Waiting. “Then when I’ve got you open, fuck, Derek. I want to—”

“What?”

Shit.

Stiles’s eyes snap open and there’s Derek. Right there. Practically in the fucking shower with him because the door is open and there is nowhere near enough steam to hide him. “Derek!”

“You want to what, Stiles?” Derek strips off his shirt, and oh shit, he’s wearing sweats and nothing else. Almost definitely nothing else, the way his cock tents the sweats. Definitely freeballing there.

“Your face,” Stiles says. His cock twitches because really, Derek’s cock is _right there_. It’s so close, and Stiles could just reach out except. Wait. “What are you doing here? You went home.”

“Home is a half hour away and it’s my little sister’s birthday so I went home for dinner. And I really don’t want to talk about my family or my sister,” Derek mutters. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband, tugs the fabric away from his hips.

Skin. Perfect, gorgeous, lickable skin.

Derek meets his gaze. “What about my face?”

“Your beard.” Stiles thinks his cock should be flagging, but no, it’s hard as a rock and pointed straight at Derek like a fucking dousing rod. “You are so fucking good looking, you and your perfect face. And you keep growing your beard, like you’re taunting me, because it makes you look more perfect.”

Derek smiles, licks his lips. “And you want to fuck me.”

Stiles blinks. “Um.”

“You said it this morning. When you were brushing your teeth,” Derek says. He nudges his sweats down an inch, and Stiles wants to lick the cut of his groin. “It’s not the first time.”

“Oh.” Stiles needs to slow down. Process this. “You knew. You knew I was—I wanted—wait. Did you—?”

Derek raises one hand to stroke his beard. “I wondered how long it had to be before I was handsome enough,” he says quietly.

“Fuck.” The one word explodes out, and Stiles shudders with the force of trying to keep from coming right then and there. “Do you want me to?” He twists off the water, reaches for Derek. His hands fall quickly before he manages to touch him. “Wait. What about your girlfriend?”

“I broke up with Paige before we started school,” Derek says. He reaches for Stiles, but Stiles takes a step back, almost sliding until Derek catches him, holds him upright.

“You were having sex just the other night,” Stiles protests, and Derek’s ears go pink.

“You heard that?”

“You were _loud_.”

Derek tugs. “Yes, we’re going to have sex, and yes, you’re going to fuck me into my bed. I’m in for everything you were talking about while you jerked off. Let me just introduce you to my partner from the other night.”

Stiles wants to dig in, but he’s still slick and wet from the shower and his feet slide on the floor. “I don’t want a threesome.”

“You might want this one.” Derek leaves him at the door, goes over to a black lockbox sitting on his desk. They all have one; Stiles keeps his cash and adderall in his. It pops open, and Derek pulls out a tube of high-end ultra-slick lube, and a huge fucking dildo.

It is a thing of beauty, veiny and bright purple. Stiles takes it from him and he can barely wrap his fingers around it at the base.

“You can take this?” Stiles whispers, and just like that, his cock is even harder than before, dripping wet and achingly ready.

“Come find out.”

A guy can’t just say things like that. Stiles whines with the need to come. It’s been so long, and he’s so ready and Derek’s just there, taking off his sweats, his huge fucking cock swinging free. Derek hitches up on the bed, slides back so he’s lying with his head on the pillow.

“You say yes,” Stiles says quickly, because he wants to make sure everything is clear here. “Because I say yes. To all things including, hopefully, fucking you so hard you scream.”

“I say yes.” Derek reaches out, pulls him closer. “Get up here.”

Stiles goes where Derek tugs, and next thing he knows his cock is resting on Derek’s chin, against that thick, lush, beautiful beard.

Derek shoves an arm behind his head as well as the pillow, and it puts him at the perfect angle. He opens his mouth, teases at Stiles’s cock with the tip of his tongue, and fuck, how is he supposed to resist?

“This isn’t fair. You can’t make me come,” Stiles groans. “Fuck, I’m so close, but I want to fuck you.”

Derek wraps his hand around Stiles’s cock. “I know, and you will. I want you to finger me open. Use the dildo on me. It’ll give you plenty of time to recover. Right now, I want to make you come.”

He leans up, fits his mouth over the head of Stiles’s cock, and Stiles falls forward. He shifts is hips, fucking down into that beautiful mouth.

It doesn’t take long, only two or three thrusts before Stiles is groaning, shaking, coming hard enough that Derek can only swallow once before Stiles pulls out and shoots across his beard.

Derek’s lips are red and stretched and he looks fucking debauched.

Stiles’s dick twitches. It might not take all that long to recover.

Derek smiles slowly, reaches up to run his thumb across Stiles’s mouth. “You liked that.”

“Yeah.” Stiles awkwardly slides back so he’s straddling Derek’s hips. His cock is half-limp, sticky with mess. Derek’s entire chest is… just as gorgeous as the rest of him. Stiles can’t resist exploring, tweaking one tight nipple just to see Derek jump. “Do you want a washcloth or something?”

Derek pats Stiles’s hip, and he moves off of him so that Derek can roll over and grab a tissue. He quickly cleans up his beard, and Stiles takes the chance to grab the dildo and lube, bringing them up onto the bed. When Derek falls back again, Stiles is at the foot of the bed, pushing Derek’s feet up to bend his legs as much as possible.

Derek grabs onto his own thighs, pulls his legs back and opens himself up.

 _Jesus_.

Yeah, it’s really not going to take that long for Stiles to recover.

It’s like having a beautiful buffet in front of him, and he’s not sure where to start. That cock, for one. It’s big and red and so hard right now. Stiles grips it carefully, lowers his mouth onto it and steadies himself in case Derek fucks up. But Derek lies perfectly still, biting off a moan.

Stiles lets Derek slip out, uses his hand now that Derek’s cock is slick. “Don’t be quiet,” he says. “I want to hear you. I love the way you sound. I’ve been getting off to it.”

“Oh, fuck.” Derek pulls his knees wider. “I get off thinking about your hands. Those long fingers. I want them inside of me.”

“Okay, yeah, I can do that.” Stiles squeezes too much lube onto his fingers, and he quickly wipes them down the crack of Derek’s ass. His fingertip catches on the rim, and Derek shivers. Stiles circles his hole, presses just the tip of one finger in.

“Don’t go slow,” Derek says. “I want to feel your fingers, want to feel you opening me up.”

Stiles still takes his time with the first finger, coaxing Derek to open up for him. He presses in to the first knuckle, then pulls out and lubes up before he goes again. There is no such thing as too much lube, and he wants Derek to be slick and slippery on the inside.

On the second press, he slips his index finger all the way in, fucks him slowly as Derek whines loudly. “Shit, fuck,” Derek mutters. “Jesus. Don’t stop. Fuck, yes, there, Stiles, yeah. God, your fingers, your fucking fingers.”

Stiles obliges by slipping a second one past the rim, twisting as he fucks him now, reaching and trying to find just the right angle to hit Derek’s prostate. He knows he got it when Derek’s hips jerk, a thin stream of fluid dripping from the tip of his cock. “You like that?” Stiles murmurs, smiling when Derek offers just a steady stream of _yes, fuck, yes_ in response.

Stiles could keep doing this all night, could just watch Derek writhe on the end of his fingers. But there’s that fucking dildo, and he heard the noises Derek made on it, and he wants to see it for himself. “You ready for your toy?”

Derek whines as Stiles withdraws his fingers, breath rapid in the aftermath. “Yeah. Yeah. Until you’re ready to fuck me, use the dildo,” Derek says.

“How easily can you take it?” Stiles strokes lube all over it, slicking it up before he positions it at Derek’s hole. The head is thick and bulbous, the entire silicone cock longer and wider than Stiles’s own cock.

He’d feel inadequate, but he loves the idea that this is going to leave Derek loose and pliant, easy for Stiles to fuck into without hurting him. His cock twitches at the idea, already half hard all over again.

“Try me,” Derek says, and Stiles pushes the head in. It’s tight at first, then Derek groans and the head slips past the rim, swallowed by Derek’s ass.

He’s stretched around it, puffy and red. Stiles slides one finger against the rim, and Derek cries out; Stiles uses that moment to slip the dildo further in. Derek thrusts his hips up, and Stiles pushes, and the dildo is seated balls deep just like that.

Derek pants, his cock slightly wilted but still dripping. “Fuck. Stiles. Fuck, that’s so good.” His fingers cling to his thighs, holding himself open, legs shaking. Stiles gives the dildo a little twist, and Derek cries out again. “Yeah, yeah, like that. Fuck me,” Derek begs.

So Stiles obliges. Just little strokes, in and out, Derek’s rim catching every time. Derek shudders under him, moaning loudly, cock filling again. Stiles leans in, licks at the rim where it’s stretched around the dildo, and Derek shudders. For a moment, Stiles thinks he’s going to come, but Derek somehow holds back, whispering _fuck fuck fuck_ the entire time.

“Do you want to come?” Stiles asks, licking the words in a long stripe up the side of Derek’s cock, sucking for a moment at the head while Derek’s hips jerk.

“Yeah. No. Not yet. Not until you’re inside me.” Derek leans up, manages to look down at him, abs tight and taut, a pool of liquid over his belly button. His cock’s still thick and red, but Stiles would swear he’s come already, the liquid thick and white, like maybe he’s coming a little bit and somehow stopping himself by sheer force of will.

Waiting for Stiles to fuck him.

Yeah, Stiles is hard again. All the way hard and all the way fucking ready to go. “Now?” he asks, tugging at the dildo. He pulls it out, lays it aside on the bed and kneels between Derek’s legs. He’s just about to press in when he looks down. “Shit. Condom.”

“Drawer.” Derek flails one hand out, and Stiles looks where he points. He digs into the drawer, fumbles out a single foil packet, and quickly unrolls the condom down over his dick.

There’s a moment of resistance, barely a token, when Stiles pushes past Derek’s rim. Then he slides into him easily, the way slick and slippery, opened by the thick dildo. He’s hot and clings to Stiles, and for just a moment he has to breathe as Derek whimpers.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, lying over Derek, reaching to stroke Derek’s beard. “Yeah, you’re so good. Feel so fucking good to me.”

His beard is soft, so soft. Derek’s mouth is open, adorably bunny teeth visible as he pants. Stiles reaches, carefully touches Derek’s hands where he holds his legs, and Derek lets go. His heels dig into the backs of Stiles’s thighs, and Stiles presses forward again.

“I want to kiss you,” Stiles says, and Derek meets his gaze nodding.

Warm, welcoming, a kiss he could drown in. Derek digs his heels in, and Stiles responds by pulling back and fucking into him as they kiss, and oh yeah, that makes a perfect moment even more perfect. Everything’s wet and sticky between them, Derek still hard as a rock, but Stiles is determined.

“Gonna make you come,” Stiles mutters, pulling back from the kiss. He nibbles his way to Derek’s throat, sucks a dark mark just over his collarbone. He fucks into him hard, taking his cues from the way Derek cries out, the way his heels press against Stiles’s thighs, the way Derek clings to his ass. He pulls back, curls his body enough to catch a nipple in his teeth, and Derek twists on the bed, screaming, ending on a gasp.

Stiles has already come once. He should be able to go forever, but he can already feel his balls pulling up, his body begging to get off. He wants to bury himself, empty himself inside of Derek. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispers, mouth on Derek’s shoulder. “Want you to come. Want to feel you come on my cock, you are so fucking perfect. Come on, come on. Jesus, please.” He clamps his teeth down, bites hard, and Derek goes stiff beneath him, coming with a shout.

Stiles fucks him through it, staring down at Derek’s face the entire time, loving the way he relaxes after the orgasm. He comes like it’s wrenched out of him, and maybe it is for this second go, his cock dribbling into the condom.

Derek stretches out slowly as Stiles withdraws, sliding into the narrow space beside him on the twin bed. “Fuck,” Derek whispers.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Stiles pats his chest, slides his hand down to find the stick aftermath of Derek’s release. “And it was good.”

Derek catches Stiles’s hand, brings it up to his mouth and sucks on his fingers. Stiles isn’t sure he can manage a third go round right now, but that makes him wonder. “Yeah, good,” Derek whispers, and he’s soft and pliant and feels like he’s slipping into sleep already. “Gonna do it again,” he says. “Isaac won’t come home tonight. Got the room to ourselves. Wondered how long it was going to take you.”

“You could’ve just said you wanted me to fuck you,” Stiles points out, and Derek huffs.

“Where’s the fun in that? You didn’t mean to tell me you wanted to fuck me,” Derek points out. He grabs Stiles’s hand, rolls over so that Stiles is spooning him, and Derek has his hand tucked around him, close to his chest. “We’re good now, tho.”

“We can have a threesome with your dildo any time you want, big guy,” Stiles murmurs. He pulls back just long enough to get the condom off, knot it and toss it where he thinks the trash is. Then he slips back into position curled tight against Derek’s back. “Next time, think I’m gonna see how long I can keep you going without coming.”

“Love edging,” Derek whispers, words slow and soft. “Kept myself up for over an hour once.”

Jesus, that image is just not fair. The idea of Derek writhing there, just on the edge, almost coming while Stiles teases him. His dick twitches. “Yeah, next time.” Stiles kisses the back of Derek’s shoulder and lets himself relax. He needs a little time before next time can happen. Then he can fuck this handsome, adorable man all over again.

It’s going to make early mornings harder, knowing that he can have this. That they could do this. On the other hand, it might make Stiles actually get out of bed on the first alarm if it means a quickie in the shower before class.

Yeah. The rest of freshman year is going to be fucking awesome.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)! If you like my fanfic, you might want to check out my original work, too, at [Welcome to PHU](http://welcometophu.tumblr.com).


End file.
